Lingering Sorrow Chapter 1 - Draft 1 - Writers Forum

LoverzCry · 06-22-2007, 11:30 AM

This is the first draft, and I've already gone over it and fixed all the gramatical errors and added, and taken things out and such, but I'm about 1500 miles from the edited copy so i can't really get to it at the moment. I just wanted to share the first chapter of draft one. here you go.

Chapter 1

Driving down the same old road, all busted and cracked, uplifted in places and piles of car scraps lying off to one side of the road. The same smell of dirt was in the towns’ air, and the same old beat up car. We road in a Honda, with a cracked wind shield and a half-gone bumper. My father and I were going home from my school where I had just been picked up from. It was old just like everything else in the run down town. My parents said I’d get used to the new town, but after three years, I still missed the city. I missed the dank and dirty streets, the smell of hundreds of meals, floating softly through the mid-day breeze, catching a hint of curry, or of hamburgers, or something of the sort you’d find in a random apartment building. I stared out the window and dreamt about the city as I always did when my father asked me the mundane questions of how my day was and if I was passing my classes. I just told him “yes”, and he smiled and went back to his driving and cursing at the reckless drivers swerving about him. I heard him give a grunt and we pulled over.
I looked up to see a fuming truck, with a large trailer hinged to its rear. The family besides the father who was coming over to our car, was standing on the side of the road, including a woman with curly reddish brown hair, and a girl about my age with short, strait black hair. She looked at me and smiled. I got flushed and looked away, pretending I didn’t see her. Instead I looked at the mid-day sky, the sun was barely covered in the high-noon heavens. She looked down, sad and a bit embarrassed herself. I still looked at her though, seeing her at quick glances, afraid she might see. Her father apparently, came up to our window and leaned on it. He looked rugged and old, but I was sure he wasn’t even forty yet. His hair and face were wet with sweat, and his hands and clothes were covered in grease. “So what seems to be the problem? Need some help?” my father gave the man a grin and raised a questioning brow. The man laughed. “Sure, I guess that would be nice. Otherwise I’m sure we’ll be here for a while.” He stood up and scooted back as my father unbuckled himself and rose from the car. They began to talk of what seems to be the matter with the car. As they strode on, I could no longer hear them but I could read a few words from their lips. They seemed to be talking about something like relocation. Moving perhaps? That would explain the trailer. I looked away and back to the clouds. “None of my business anyway.” I looked back at the girl and she was smiling at me, her blue eyes half closed. Startled I flinched and swung back towards my former position but a little too quick I suppose. My forehead hit the glass and knocked me back slightly, a bit stunned, and very red in the face. I held my head and glanced up at the girl again. She was giggling and still looking at me with that same stare, one of both interest and enticement. Her eyes were so pure, so innocent, and so caring, I swear that they could have belonged to an angel… and perhaps they did.
She stepped over to where I sat, flustered in the old car, still holding to my throbbing forehead. She leaned in the window, so close, that if I leaned just slightly in her direction, we’d have been touching. I put my hands down from over my lump and put on a composed look. She looked me over smiling all the while. She said not a word… just smiled. I looked her in the eye, and gave an inquiring stare at her. She cocked her head to one side. “Do I have something on my face?” she grinned even wider. “It’s rude to stare you know.” She wagged a finger at me. I frowned “What are you doing then?” she looked at me quite happily and announced, “Why, I was examining you of course.” I was taken aback. “What ever for? And wait, how is that any better?” she shrugged, “I dunno, it just is, and I was looking you over to see what you look like for starts. Then I was to ask about you.” I looked at her as though she had an extra eye. “Why would you need to do that now?” she merely shook her head and then looked back at me. “What a silly question. I was going to look you over and then guess what kind of person you are! Then I would ask you some questions, and find out if my guess was right.” I relaxed a bit but still kept the same look on my face. “All right then.” Said I, “ask away miss?” now it was her turn to look surprises. “Oh! My name is Katie. Katie Darson.” I smiled for the first time in this encounter. “Well Miss Darson, you may begin with your questioning. Will this require a lie detector as well?” she giggled a bit. “No! Heehee. Just you, me, and our hearts as true as they be.” My cheeks felt hot, and my heart skipped a beat when she said this. “O-Ok…then let’s begin shall we?” he clapped her hands. “Quite!” putting her right index finger to her chin she began!
She asked her questions, and we had our share of laughs and jousts. Our fathers finished their work and get back into their vehicles. “Bye!” she called. “Oh Wait! I didn’t catch your name!” I cupped my mouth. “I’m Leif Anderson!” she grinned and waved her hand. “Goodbye Leif! I hope to see you again soon!” I waved back as we both drove off. My father chuckled. “A bit sooner than you both think ha-ha.” I frowned at him. “What do you mean dad?” he glanced down at me through his shimmering glasses. “What I mean to say is that you little friend Katie and her parents are moving into the house next to ours where the Tonkawa’s’ have moved out of.” I remembered the house well. It was a two story blue and white house with Italian framing on the windows. The house also held most of my best memories, because for years no-one lived in that house, and was the one place I could escape from both home and the neighborhood bullies, but the didn’t bother me anymore.
We drove the rest of the way home in silence. When we got home it was back to the same routine and I was back to day-dreaming about the past. The Darsons truck wasn’t at their place yet. As we approached the front door, I could hear the same bickering of my same older siblings over the same old thing… My dad unlocked the door and we made our way inside, shutting it behind us. My eyes swung across the domain of supposing rest, relaxation, and safety. My eldest brother, Michael, and sister, Carol, were at it again. They’re twins, always at each others necks, always fighting, never at peace as an endless waltz, a never-ending war, as consistent as Middle East firefights.
“Hey! Brat!” one of them called. Sounded like my sister, but I couldn’t tell, for her voice was nearly as deep as my brothers. She stormed into the room, towel in hand, her face covered in smeared makeup and cosmetics. So much as a matter of fact, that I couldn’t tell if it was her or a clown who’d been crying and towering over me. She shoved the towel in my face. “Look At What You’ve Done! You’ve Ruined My Favorite Towel You Little Piece Of Shit!” she spat on my face and I looked at the towel that lay in my hands. It had been horribly stained. By the looks of it with some sort of bleach like cosmetic. I wiped my spittle covered face with it and she gave out a squeal of horror. She snatched it out of my hands and cradled it as though a dying pet. “How Dare You, You Little Wretch! You Ruin It, And Then Have The Gull To Use It On That Damn Face Of Yours? God Damn You!” I laughed at her and she hit me but I kept laughing through my tearing eyes. “Quit Your Laughing! You Will Pay For What You Have Done To My Towel!” she shook it within her clenched fist inches before my face and stomped off.
I knew my brother had done it, and I’m sure she did too. She needed to use me as a vent… I was always the one to blame so I just got used to it. They could never win against each other, but against me they had a chance at that sweet victory. I wiped my wet eyes and looked round the corner to see my brother on his X-Box. He was playing Halo and didn’t seem to notice me. I sneaked up the stairs, making not a sound. I could hear Carol downstairs wailing about her “beloved towel.” Sure life was tough sometimes but the long nights gave me the peace and quiet I needed to settle myself, and to keep myself sane. I creaked into my dark room, lit only by a crack in my blinds. I could make out the silhouettes of my dresser, bed, desk, and whatnot.
I slipped over so silently and swiftly over the obstacles, you’d think me a phantom. I slit my blinds open to let in some more light. I’d turn my lights one later. I tossed my back pack on the floor, and fell onto my bed with a grunt. I lay there for a moment thinking of my duties and objectives for the rest of the day. I was to do the mundane chores of the ritual I called my life, my homework, sort things out with dad about the towel crap my sister was giving me, and the with the rest of my day and night, I’d get back to my poem and book. The poem was almost finished and would be going into the next chapter so I’d have to finish it before I could proceed with my novel. I’d been working on the book for the past three years, and hid it in the air duct so that my siblings couldn’t get to it.
I set my clock for the next morning before I could forget, and set off for the hellfire below. I stumbled down the wooden stairs, into the furnished living room where my father was reading the paper while smoking his pipe and listening to the drone of his daughter plead to him to beat me. I chuckled as I walked past this pitiful scene and bounded onto my chores. I took out the day old trash, emptied the old dishwasher, and took out the compost to its heap. As I finished I washed my hands and went to dry them. A pair of hands came up behind me and grasped my throat. I elbowed the one responsible in the ribs, and turned round, ready to fight one of my seventeen year-old siblings, I’d pulled a knife from the counter and had it in hand. My brother stumbled back, winded but ready for more. He was about to lunge at me again but noticed the blade clasped in my grip. He stood up full and straight. “What do you know about my X-Box?” I shrugged, not letting my guard down. “You love it? Hell if I know.” He shook his head. My brother was always at least a little nicer to me. He didn’t yell or go crying to dad, but he hit a hell of a lot harder. “No… it has juice spilled all over it. Did you do it or not?” I shook my head as well. “What do you think? Am I the one who always does things to piss you off or hurt you? Be sensible now.” he nodded. “Just making sure. You never know.”
He walked off and I held my neck where he’d grabbed me. It was bruised. I turned around and began to dry my hands. My brother came up behind me once more and slugged my shoulder hard. I fell over, clutching my throbbing pain with wet soggy hands. He stood over my curled up ball of quivering flesh. I looked him in the eyes. “That’s for elbowing me. Learn your place shrimp.” I gritted my teeth and he walked into the living room where yelling started to flow in a symphony of hollers and wails, strumming together to form the orchestra of hell, the lyrics of hate and demise, the records of destruction, and the marching band, welcoming you to the gate of pain and suffering.
I stumbled to t he bathroom where I inspected my swelling wound. It was red, purple, and nearly black in some parts. I tended to it gently, putting ice on the places worst off. I went upstairs and started my homework, my long brown hair in my face, my velvet-like green eyes still watered a bit from the impact but it didn’t bother me so. I went out and turned the lights off, slowly ascending the creaking stairs. I sighed and entered my dark room, and turned on the light, shedding light upon it, and shut up my blinds for the night. It was dusk outside, and the light was about gone. I checked my watch to see the blinking seven thirty six on its face. I slumped down in my chair before my dusty desk. I didn’t bother cleaning it for mo-one ever came in here except to yell at me. It felt like that anyway. I pulled up my pack, took out my studies, and began to work. It wasn’t until around nine that I finished, and about nine minutes later, I was called down to dinner.
We ate in a solemn silence. I could tell that both my siblings were in trouble for all they did was sit there, mope, and shoot glares across the table when they could see the flash in the others eyes as they slid upon the next. I gave a slight laugh that I covered up as a raspy cough. My father reached across and put a hand on my forehead, kept it there for a second, and then retreated, going back to eating. He cut his steak slowly, rubbed it in some A1, then stuck into his watering mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. My mother, wearing a tight pare of sweats, and a loose eighties style sweat shirt with the old style undershirt as well. After dinner, we all divided amongst ourselves the house. My mother to the kitchen, my father to the living room, my brother to the game room, and my sister to her room. I went to my room to get to work on my awaiting poem.
My room lay empty as I had left it. I sat in my chair, and got ready to work. I got my special sort of pen, my hat, and lamp. I grasp my pen and went down to write but my poem was gone. I looked under my desk, my bed, every where but it was no-where to be seen. I flew down the hall and flung open my sisters door. She jumped up in shock and stomped over to me demanding my reasons for barging into her room. “Where’s my poem!?” I spat and she turned up a grin. “Oh that piece of trash? I tore it up and flushed it. Serves you right for pinning my mess on me.” I reached back and slapped her and ran down to father, she was following close behind, while holding her face. Tears ran down both our faces, and I flashed into the living room where my father sat in his reclined chair. I got to him first, just as my sister grabbed a fistful of my long hair and pulled me back.

LoverzCry · 06-22-2007, 11:31 AM

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I spread my eyes wide, span round, hair still in her claws, and socked her in the jaw so hard, that she fell back on her ass, and spat up blood. She spit out a tooth and her lip was busted and torn up bad. I laughed at my victory and before she could get up, father grabbed us both by the collars of out shirts and picked us from the ground with ease. He glared at us both. “The fuck is going on eh? HUH? Answer me damn it!” I shook my head and started. “You see, she stole my poem I’d been working hard on and destroyed it. I confronted her, about it and she was an ass towards me as usual. I slapped her, ran down here, and you saw the rest.” He raised a queer eye at my sister. “Well? Is it so?” she shook her head violently. “No it is not! He was going to blackmail me unless if I stole your wallet for him! I went after him, and he slapped me, I came down here to try and make him apologize but he hit me as you saw and now we’re here.” He glared at me. Of course he believed her, he always believed her. Daddy’s little fucking girl. Always at her beck and call, always looking after her, showing me the door, and dragging me there. My mouth hung open, as I gaped at her. “Bu-but…!?” he set my sister down but still held me elevated in the air. “Why the hell did you do it boy?” I spoke up “I Didn’t! It’s Her Fault As Always! She’s Pinning This Shit On Me As Usual! And As Usual, You’re Buying Into Her Bull Shit!” I’d lost it, and I pushed my father over the edge. He reached back and back handed me. I flew across the room and fell hard on the floor. There I lay still.
My face was cut slightly from his ring. I remained on the floor as my father rubbed his and sat back down in his chair. My sister hurried back upstairs, and I lay there, bleeding. Out cold for all I knew for I was frozen… Not from anger, and nor from fear, but at the amazement that such tolerance was accepted in this day and age… I filled my mind with thoughts of both destruction and sadness yet I felt neither, and in a sense I felt happy. I laughed a low hum at first, then into a slight raspy chuckle, and finally into a high pitched squeal of plain insanity. I rose to my feet, cackling still, stumbling around in an unknown daze, knowing what to do, but not entirely in control. I saw my father from the corner of my eye. He looked surprised… curious to what I was doing after he’d just bashed me.
He stood slowly but I slid into the kitchen before he could do anything and reached for the huge butcher knife in the sink. He dashed into the room and halted at the entrance when he saw my blade in my hands. He put up his hands in surrender, but I still grinned thoughtfully at my weapon. I raised it up, and before I could bring it down upon my throat, I was hit sharply on the back of my head. As I fell, the darkness taking me in, I turned round to see my brother, his slender fingers curled into a tight fist. He’d hit me, and as I felt my body slide into a field of unconsciousness, I mouthed the words, “…thank you…” and fell to the floor, out cold.
I awoke the next morning to my clock sounding its bell. The smell of bacon aloft. I rose slowly from my bed, fumbling around some. My head hurt but I was glad to still be here. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a Led Zeppelin tee, and hustled downstairs to grab a quick bite. I entered the kitchen and whispered into my fathers’ ear a soft apology. I ate in silence, not wanting to speak with anyone. My sister shot sneers across the table at me, and as I ran past her I called her an “ugly fuck” I believe, and before she could catch me, I had already gone out the door, and was in the car waiting for my dad.
The same old smell of fresh manure was in the air as we left for school that average November Morning. I arrived at school in a rush out of the car, for I was embarrassed to be dropped off just away from the school instead of being dropped at the front, so I ran from the car as though I was in a hurry as always. I entered the halls at about seven twenty eight. I went to my locker and put up my things. I stood from my pack and put it where it was to be left, and began to walk away but I tripped, landing sprawled out on the hallway floor. The people all around laughed, I flushed, and trotted to my first period class in the stuffy place called my school.
I entered my English class to see that Mrs. Roberts wasn’t there, but a younger, seemingly livelier teacher was in her place. She sat at Mrs. Roberts’s desk, and her name, Mrs. Sweikowsky, was written on the board in fine cursive. I sat at my desk near the back of the room, at remained there, eying the teacher from a distance. I began to get bored with waiting, so I drew some on a piece of paper. The bells rang and class had begun, chattering tenth graders all over the place, loud as can be. She clapped her hands and whistled pretty loud, and all was quiet. She stood straight and began. “Hello, as you can see from the board,” she gestured to the great white plaque behind her with the blue scribbles on it. “My name is Mrs. Sweikowsky, and for the rest of your years here, hopefully I’ll be the tenth grade teacher here. Mrs. Roberts has moved out of town, and she didn’t tell anyone but the faculty so that there wouldn’t be any fuss about her going.”
All sighed at the mention of a new permanent teacher. She was about to begin again but there was a knock at the door. She cocked her head and stepped over to the door, swift and elegant. The girl from before walked in. My new neighbor and classmate I suppose. “Well now! Why are you late miss?” she bowed her head, “I’m sorry! I’m new here, and just drove in the other day, so I’m a tad lost.” She looked at her feet wrapped up in her sneakers, both were a little dusty from the walk outside. I smiled but I didn’t know why. Perhaps because I now had a friend, or maybe I now had someone to talk to, or could it be that I had finally reached a point of serenity?
Mrs. Sweikowsky looked at her queerly but shrugged and looked at her list of seats, pointing to the seat besides me. She looked at me and blinked a few times before smiling. I guess she didn’t expect to find me this easily for that was the same way it was for me. I smiled and gave a slight wave, relaxing in my chair and welcoming her to my side. The first relaxation felt in my rippling muscles… the tense binding flesh tethered across my bones released and let go of the fine grasp of suffering and agony of loneliness.
She looked in longing at her seat, seeming exhausted and weathered. Her eyes were nearly shut, weighing her down and nearly dropping her to the hard tile floor. Her shoulders sagged with the time of work and stress, perhaps the cause of a new home, a new school, a new life… She slumped in her chair and let out a breath of relief. She looked at me through the corner of her eye, and signaled shooting herself in the head in a joking manner. I laughed a little but too quiet for the teacher to hear. We smiled at each other and started our studies.
After our first period class, we met in the hall and talked for a while. She raised and eyebrow at me, books in hand and bag slung over her shoulder. “So Leif, what’s your schedule like? You know, like what classes do you have?” I shrugged and rummaged around in my pack for a minute or so. Finally, I found what I was looking for and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper handing it to her. She flattened it our and looked it over in comparison to her own schedule. She raised her eyebrows. “Omigod! We have the exact same schedule! Isn’t that great Leif!?” I flushed a little at the thought of being with her the whole day. (She turned a little red too though.) Made me kind of fuzzy. “Yeah… it’s awesome.” I couldn’t believe it… I finally had a friend.
“She looked at her watch. “Oh! Time to get down to Biology. Shall we?” She ushered me towards the East wing of the school and I followed willingly, and in a sense I suppose I drifted behind her just so that I could look at her without being embarrassed. She looked back at me, wondering why I was trailing behind and I quickly caught up, saying I was just thinking ‘bout something. We hurried off to our next class… together, the best of friends…
The class was slow and dull. I think I could’ve had more fun shopping for furniture, or even the dreaded spring cleaning, but I didn’t mind, for Katie and I kept passing notes to each other beneath the table and every once in a while utter a light giggle. We had a good old time in there, even though it was only her first day in her new school, you’d have thought that she’d been there for years… How comfortable we were around each other was simply amazing, and enchanting… Her mystic blue eyes glancing over to mine every once and a while and we both turned away as quick as one could. The class lasted a long hour and a half, but it felt like minutes, the time went by so fast… so pleasantly fast and sweet, unlike how it was before… the loneliness… the darkness of the corner I’d hide and eat my lunch alone… All were a thing of the past.
We stepped outside into the bright blue day; the air was cool in the breeze but heavy beneath the sun with its heat and exhaustion. We arte beneath the large oak tree in the center of the great wide courtyard of our memorable school, we talked of our hobbies, and we ate peacefully, close but not too close. I told her of my writing and she asked to see some of it. I again searched my bag for some remnants of genius.
Beneath a few Ray Bradbury books, I found a poem I had written the other day but had forgotten about it. I yanked it from its bed and Katie bathed it in her vision and covered it in her judgment, and finally gave the verdict. She looked at me, as though she was very far away, her eyebrows were raised and she had a very blank, surprised expression on her face. “Wow…” she looked back at it and shook her head in disbelief. “I mean… like wow… this, I mean… You wrote this?” I nodded and she looked back at the scribbled worlds lain upon the sheet of paper. She handed it back to me, still stunned by its wonder and design, she called it “wonderful”, she called it “magnificent”, she called it “glamorous, and terrific, and everything else that can describe greatness! How do you do it?” and I shrugged. “It just comes to me… It’s just something I do to get my mind off my surroundings.” She looked at me in a longing fashion, trying to tell what I knew or didn’t. It was as though she were staring right through me.
I got flushed and embarrassed at the thought she was looking at me and only me, her mind was on me and only me, and her eyes glimmered in the shaded light beneath the fine tree. I changed the subject. “So tell me, where are you from? I mean… like where did you live before you came out here?” She looked at her feet and smiled. “I’m from California. We moved here from the Los Angeles County, around in Granada Hills. We moved here because of my fathers’ job. He’s an IT Recruiter, as well as a computer technician and they were lacking employees down here so he volunteered to ship us all down into the middle of nowhere… So yeah, that’s pretty much my story, How bout you?” I shrugged. “Same for me in a sense, for we moved because of business opportunities as well. I moved down here from the West Coast as well, down there in Venice. The home of those devil dogs, The Z-Boys.” She smiled and I smiled back and we ate the rest of our lunch in peace and quiet, until the bell rang, sending us back into the colony. We ran through the doors playfully chasing the other in unison as elegant as the dance of the Monarch Butterfly.
We retrieved our things from our lockers and headed to our next class which was on the other side of the school in the North Wing. We walked into Mr. Streppers class and readied ourselves to learn the workings of Algebraic equations. I was pulling my homework from my pack when I heard Katie whispering to me. “…so you know, you’re an amazing writer, you could get published even if you didn’t try, I’m sure of it. You need to keep at it Leif… you really need to keep writing. I don’t care if you’re persecuted, I don’t care if you’re attacked, I don’t care if they hate you like hell, I don’t care if your hands fall off and you go blind… you need to keep on writing…” She stared at me with a very gloomy stare, her eyes hung, and her mouth hung slightly open.
I nodded and held her hand to comfort her as a friend and she smiled, wiping the tears forming in her eyes. “Thanks.” She said and class began… We enjoyed working together and just simply being together to have someone to talk to… She made life more bearable for me. We stopped by each others lockers, hers and then mine. That day I called up my parents to tell them that I’d walk Katie home, and we were off. We talked of all sorts of things, such as the economy, politics, more things that we liked to do, the works. Then we got back on the topic of my writing. “Like I said before Leif, I really love what you can do… with your writing I mean… you merely scribbled out a page of work and now my heart still weeps with the sadness of that terrible fate…”
She walked in front of me and stopped me, staring into the very pits of my soul. “It feels as though you are the man in the poem, those tears of blood, those tragic deaths, that poor poor man… You shot right through to the point you wanted, intentionally or not, it was beautiful…” I shrugged, “It’s all normal to me. No different from you or anyone else. I did notice that my writing did seem to surpass everyone else’s work when we did a writing project and such.” She looked at her feet and smiled looking back up at me. She turned around and we continued on, my hands behind my head, staring at the sky, she leaning forward, hands behind her back holding her book bag. It was a lovely day… simply beautiful.
I walked her to her door and we said our goodbyes. We made our plans to meet in the morning of the next rising day. I was sad that day had to end so soon, when there was much light left to spend, hung in the high heavens of three o’clock. She stepped inside her paint scented home and gave a wave to me and I sent one back as she shut the huge mahogany door. I hung my head and slumped over to my own door and pulled out my keys. I slid the fine silvery thing into its slot and gave it a twist, opening its holder’s fine tuned compartment of perfection.
I flew through the night on clouds and suns, drifting the galaxy and tearing it into bits, spreading my lovely destruction of happiness and newfound friendship. I admit it was the best day I’d had in a very very long time. I stepped through the house, and even the beatings from my sister were more bearable due to the actual substance of the day all gone. I ate my dinner all the while a grin upon my swollen face. I went to my room after dinner and started to rewrite the poem my sister had destroyed but it was much simpler than I had imagined it would be… it all came back so smoothly. Much more easily than anything else that had been previously destroyed. Perhaps it was because my mind had been cleared at last, relieved of stress, relieved of pain, and filled with love. I stopped and looked in my mirror. Love… was such a thing possible for a wretch like me?